


A Cure for Your Loneliness

by LunaticFrench



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 20:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13959291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaticFrench/pseuds/LunaticFrench
Summary: Ali doesn’t realize he has stood up and is walking to the Premier Athlete until Cedric grabs his wrist and questions him with his eyes. He simply shrugs. He doesn’t know what he’s doing either.





	A Cure for Your Loneliness

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! I need to blame (thank, really) a certain someone for this fic. They probably will recognize themselves :p  
> PS: English isn't my mother tongue, mistakes might have slipped in while editing...

 

Mustafa would be lying if he said he isn’t nervous about his match tonight. He's never fought Murphy before, and he's called the Best Kept Secret for a reason. He has tried to watch his matches, but only a few came up. He ended up replaying his last match, noting his strength and swiftness. He would be a tough opponent to beat. There’s also the pressure of knowing he’s only one step away from Wrestlemania. He isn’t fighting for himself, but for them: the people seeming themselves in him. He has to win, to prove them it’s possible.

He’s lost in his own thoughts at the cafeteria, hearing the constant rambling of his friends in the background. Hideo has joined them not long ago. He is the stoic figure of their group, observing and judging them in silence.

“Right, Moose?” Cedric calls suddenly, his smile radiating in his direction.

“Hum? Y-yeah,” he smiles back awkwardly, but his friend is so excited by whatever he’s talking about that he doesn’t even notice.

Mustafa ogles at him and Akira a moment, then his glare drifts to the back of the room, to the other side of their division. Drew, also fighting tonight, seems as focused as he is. He’s talking to Ariya and Jack in a seemingly cold tone. He keeps squeezing his fist in his hand. Next to their table, sitting by his lonesome is a man that once belonged to their group, but is now lost at sea, feigning he is still swimming while slowly drowning: Tony Nese.

His expression resembles a puppy abandoned by the sight of the road. It pains Ali to see him like that. Tony is an obnoxious show-off, a regular jock filled with stupidity and smugness, but his heart is ten times bigger than his brain. Mustafa knows how much the Fitness Friends -or however they called themselves- relied on each other. A brotherhood that once matched his own. Nese is now mostly alone. Ariya is still seen as his friend, but ignores Tony all the same when Drew is around. It’s a complicated situation, really, and Mustafa feels sorry for all of them.

His heart constricts in his chest when the three men leave. Tony follow them with his eyes. The spark in his eyes dies upon realizing he’s being ignored again. He then looks back at the table, uneasy and seemingly out of place. Mustafa’s never seen him insecure. He’s almost trying to disappear into his chair, to fade out of existence.

Ali doesn’t realize he has stood up and is walking to the Premier Athlete until Cedric grabs his wrist and questions him with his eyes. He simply shrugs. He doesn’t know what he’s doing either.

He knows his friends are watching as he pulls a chair next to Tony and sits by his sides. The man looks at him in the corners of his eyes, but evades his gaze quickly. He darts at his hands, playing with them nervously as the silence grows between them.

“Hey,” Mustafa tries weakly, scowling himself for saying something that dumb.

“What do you want?” his voice is quiet and hoarse, like he hasn’t used it for some time.

Mustafa notices the glimmer in his eyes, the throb of his throat, the shakes of his hands. He seems about to lose it, to break down in front of him at any moment.

“Nothing,” he finally confesses, “You just seemed… lonely.”

“Big fucking news.”

The swear cuts the air like a razor. His tone is dry, hurt. He’s never seen a friend in Ali and heard his worry as sarcasm, ready to humiliate him a bit more. Tony sniffs and jerks his head away from Mustafa’s sight.

His heart tightens again. He can feel a lump forming in his throat. He’s never talked much to Tony before, but they are 205, they are family and he cannot stand to feel his usually radiating aura cloaked in sadness. There’s nothing he can come up with to ease his turmoil, so his hand reaches Tony’s. He doesn’t squeeze it, just lets his palm against the back. His thumb caresses his skin unthinkingly.

“We- I’m here if you need it, you know?” he says.

Tony looks up at him with a hint of a smile. His sad and tired eyes shimmer faintly. Mustafa feels his stomach knot and his breath stop. Tony never smiled at him before and it’s a radiant sight to see. The Premier Athlete must have felt something as well. His cheeks fluster rapidly. He withdraws his hand as if he has been burned.

“A-alright, thanks,” he whispers timidly.

“I’m in room 107,” Mustafa hears himself add, “If you need company…”

He doesn’t even know what he means by that, but he couldn’t be something he has expected walking towards Nese. The other man stares at him, puzzled, an instant before nodding. He leaves Mustafa alone, as confused as he himself must feel.

\-----

Tony must have been standing in the dim hallway of the hotel for a good minute. He keeps looking left and right, rubbing his neck. His fist hangs in the air, close to the door without touching it. He doesn’t know why he came, but he doesn’t know why he should leave either.

_If you need company…_

Mustafa’s voice echoes in his mind. It’s reassuring, comforting and eases the anxiety creeping within his core. Ali has invited him, and he cannot face the loneliness of his room at the moment. He doesn’t want to face Jack’s nor Ariya’s sorry gaze on him either, nor hear their empty apologies.

He knocks softly, maybe not loud enough to be heard. He knows that he isn’t acting like himself, that he would’ve knocked on until the door came off its hinges, but it wasn’t like him either to enter one of those goody-two-shoes’ rooms. He guesses he isn’t himself anymore, that part of him's got ripped off as he lost consciousness on that February day.

The door opens to a crack. Mustafa’s head pokes through. He seems surprised upon seeing Tony who’s idling in the hallway with an awkward smile. He looks at him up and down, seemingly puzzled at something Tony cannot figure out. He opens wide, gesturing him to come inside.

“Thanks, and congrats for your match, you’ve killed it,” the Premier Athlete says, but realizes Ali hasn’t moved from the entrance, “Sorry, I hope I’m not…”

“No, of course not. I’m the one who proposed to… I mean,” he looks away quickly, “I asked you to co- hum…”

Mustafa cannot comprehend the awkwardness settling in between them. His cheeks burn and he can hear his heartbeats thumping in his ears. Tony is looking back at him, frowning with parted lips. The commissures turn upwards and a quiet sneer escapes his throat. There’s a spark lightning in his big round eyes and Mustafa’s thoughts go blank for an instant.

“Are you mocking me?” Ali finally lets out, crossing his arms playfully.

“What? Me? Why would you think that?” his grin widens.

Mustafa laughs back. He knows he has found him annoying at some point in his life, but he cannot remember why right now. Tony isn’t the jerk he thought he’d be. They both relax.

“Maybe you want something to drink,” Ali offers, turning to the mini-fridge by the TV.

“Yeah, a beer sounds good,” he shrugs before pausing, “I mean, if you don’t mind…”

“Why would I?” he asks, walking to Tony with the uncapped bottle.

“Cause you’re… err… you know…”

The silence stretches between them. Mustafa is tending him the beer, but Tony doesn’t reach out to take it. He seems to find the window more interesting right now.

“I don’t care as long as you don’t kiss me,” he rolls his eyes.

“Then, I don’t have to worry,” he smiles and takes the bottle, “Right?”

He sits on the edge of the bed, unaware of Mustafa’s heavy heartbeats. He has used on word too many, and the innuendo it conceals hangs thick in the air. Ali sits by his sides, the fingers that brushed Tony’s still tingling. He looks at him in silence, taking in the view. His tensed muscles, his long silky hair… his dark eyes. He realizes Tony is looking back and smiles fondly.

“Right,” he murmurs, swallowing loudly.

They stay silent a moment, but the atmosphere is warm and calm. Tony is sipping his beer. Mustafa has switched on the TV and is sitting crossed legged further onto the bed. They keep peeping at each other, then looking away when their eyes meet. They don’t need to say much. Nese just needs a human presence and Ali is enjoying the way his body is relaxing in his company.

“Say, mind if I take that shirt off? I’m kinda hot in here,” he gives as an excuse, but his face is indeed a little red.

Mustafa doesn’t think it’s due to the alcohol, and prefers to blame the thermostat than his presence at his sides. He nods, telling him he could do whatever he wants to. He cannot take his eyes off him as Tony strips. His body stretches and curves perfectly as he moves. Ali has seen him more shirtless than clothed, but in the intimacy of his room, his bare skin makes his heart twitch. His tongue pokes at his bottom lip. He never thought Tony as attractive, but now that they’re inches apart, without the will to beat each other up, this thought has changed.

“I was actually surprised to see you with a shirt on,” Mustafa confesses, looking back up.

“I just thought I’d watch my manners,” he shrugs.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know I didn’t. Have you seen me?” he gestures to his pectoral and abs in a dramatic way.

_Oh, yes, I did, you egotistical idiot,_ Mustafa thinks, but bites his tongue at the last moment.

“You should be happy I was considerate enough not to make myself at home,” Tony rambles on, “You probably wouldn’t handle my full body on display.”

“Wait? You usually don’t wear… anything?”

“Well, no. Why would I?” Tony looks at him as if insulted.

“I mean… your roommates,” he lets the sentence hanging between them, cheeks burning at the image of Tony Nese wandering naked in his room.

“They never minded. Plus, here, I’ve always roomed with…” he stops himself, the beautiful spark dying in his eyes, “With…”

He bows his head down, worrying the label of the bottle. Mustafa opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He cannot think of anything to say as a veil of pain and sadness wrapped around the other, weighing on his shoulders. Ali knows what it’s like to have his heart broken, to be betrayed by someone he thought he loved. There’s no word to fill the void they left behind. He thinks of something better. His hand lands on the side of his head, pulling Tony towards him. His hair tickles his shoulder as he rests on him. Ali’s fingers run through the velvet locks.

“I know,” he murmurs, “I know.”

Tony’s breath picks up and Ali thinks he’s about to break. He’s fighting to keep a straight face, but his sniffing betrays him. He doesn’t try to get Mustafa’s hand off him. He’s just limp in his embrace.

They remain a moment silent. Mustafa is caressing his scalp and Tony is fighting to act strong. His breathing slows down until he sighs more peacefully. Mustafa darts at him for a second. There are goosebumps on his skin. Those little knolls numb his mind. He doesn’t think before bowing his head. He doesn’t know what he’s doing until his lips peck the top of his head. He withdraws as soon as he has kissed him, his whole body lightening up. Tony looks up slowly, confused, and straightens up to face him.

If Mustafa looks embarrassed at first, the gaze Tony wears makes his heart jump out of his chest for another reason. The air stiffens suddenly. There’s electricity running through them, igniting their bodies and minds. They freeze, as if breaking the moment would fuel the fire and burn them. Mustafa is the first who dares to move. His hand stretches timidly to land on Tony’s chest. He cannot leave his eyes, hypnotized by the growth of his pupils. The Premier Athlete looks down and Mustafa feels like he has made a mistake. He lifts his hand, but Tony’s join his, resting on top. Their eyes lock again. They don’t need to talk to speak.

_Do you feel it as well?_

_I think I do._

Tony leans forwards now. His other hand wraps around Ali’s nape, pulling him closer. Mustafa can feel he is slightly shaking either by apprehension or excitement. His own hands cup Nese’s jaw. They breathe faster with parted lips. Their eyes keep glancing at the other’s lips. They’re so close, breathing the same air, their lips almost touching.

At the last moment, Ali pushes his head down, kissing his forehead instead. Tony opens his eyes, disappointment written on his face. He looks down, puzzled. Hurt hovers in his eyes as he tries to get away from Mustafa’s grip. Ali realizes he might have seen rebuttal in the tender gesture. His forehead hits Tony’s.

“I told you there wouldn’t be any kissing,” he reminds him in hushed words, his thumb brushing his bottom lip.

And Tony finally understands. His mouth stays agape an instant, before forming a beatific smile that makes Mustafa melt a little inside.

“What if I brush my teeth?” he questions, hope filling his dark eyes.

“Then, maybe,” he replies, nuzzling his nose before kissing the tip, letting his love radiates through his chaste kiss.


End file.
